


Shades of the Past

by Cheru-chan1316 (cmbebop)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:07:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmbebop/pseuds/Cheru-chan1316
Summary: Then someone noticed him watching and he was called over to the small party lounging near the bar. As he stepped out the of the darkened doorway the blond caught a glimpse of his face and looked as if his heart had just been ripped from his chest. Such a look of pain and heartbreak in those beautiful gold eyes, it left him scrambling, trying to recall if he'd ever met the young man, trying to remember if he was the one who had hurt him.





	Shades of the Past

He was confused. He'd seen any number of reactions to his appearance over the years - he was undeniably attractive after all - but he'd never encountered someone who'd reacted quite like this. He'd admit that he had been watching the young man from the shadows of the hallway as the blond man talked with the others. The man, surely, he couldn't be more than 17 or 18, seemed pretty nervous about being in such an establishment, but he appeared to slowly be warming up to the staff, his shy smile coming easier, a rich and slightly husky laugh breaking the smooth rhythm of conversation. 

Then someone noticed him watching and he was called over to the small party lounging near the bar. As he stepped out the of the darkened doorway the blond caught a glimpse of his face and looked as if his heart had just been ripped from his chest. Such a look of pain and heartbreak in those beautiful gold eyes, it left him scrambling, trying to recall if he'd ever met the young man, trying to remember if he was the one who had hurt him. 

No. He was sure he'd never met the blond before. He would have remembered someone like this man. He was breathtaking, not someone you could forget. 

He wasn't the only one who noticed the look on the man’s face. Immediately the blond was bombarded with questions, but he ignored them all, standing abruptly, fleeing from the room looking pale and shaken. 

Another young man with shorter blond hair - the one who had brought the fleeing man to this establishment - called out as confused as everyone else. "Edward? What's wrong? Hey, wait! Ed!" This man quickly excused himself, soft blue eyes concerned, following after his friend. Silence filled the room as everyone, guests and hosts alike, stared after the two young men. 

"What the hell was that about, Roy?" the Madame, a buxom woman who, despite her years, was still very attractive, demanded, her sharp hazel eyes suspicious.

For once in his life he had no answer, though he felt as if he should. "I honestly have no idea, Madame," he admitted with a shake of his head, dark bangs falling into smoky eyes. He felt irrationally guilty and it bothered him. He wasn't accustomed to guilt.

The Madame fixed him with a look that clearly said he better not have anything to do with what had just happened before turning her attention elsewhere. 

Slowly conversation returned to normal and he found himself occupied with a woman of slight stature with hair as black as his own. He led her into witty conversation, showered her with compliments, and, after a glass of expensive wine, led her upstairs to one of the rooms to provide what further entertainment he could with the amount of money she was willing to pay. His mind continued to return to the blond man despite the woman's company, however, and as he fell asleep with the woman in his arms he wondered about the young man named Edward.

...

He was already half way home before he even realized where he was, his lungs burning, legs shaking, and damn it if tears weren't stinging the back of his eyes. He stopped, leaning against a light post for support, gasping as he tried to catch his breath, heart and mind racing.

He's not supposed to be here! Not him! Al's ghost was bad enough! But why does he have to be here too?! He thought, a wave of nausea washing over him as he tried to fight off the emotions that were trying to tear him apart. The appearance of his brother's shade, reflection, ghost - whatever you wanted to call it - had been a heavy blow, but this - this was too much. 

The only thing harder than leaving his brother behind in Amestris when he sacrificed himself was leaving his lover behind. Perhaps this was a sick joke the gate was playing on him, some sort of punishment for trying to play god. He had thought being separated for life was hard enough, punishment enough. Clearly the gate had other ideas.

But this was just... cruel. 

And, God, did they have to look identical?! He thought wildly. At least with Alfonse his eyes were a different color than his brother's, but that man, there was no physical outward difference. Even his body language, the suggestion of a smirk at the corner of his lips that threatened to break free, his cool confidence, even the confused look of concern in those warm dark eyes had fucking been the same.

The urge to throw up became too much for the blond and he was neatly sick in the bushes. As he emptied his stomach Alfonse finally caught up with him. 

“What the hell, Ed!” the blue-eyed man gasped, trying to catch his breath as he came to a stop next to the smaller man. Edward ignored him and concentrated on fending off another wave of nausea, which he lost. Alfonse made and impatient noise and bent over to hold his friend’s hair back. Ed made a weak noise, a mixture of annoyance and appreciation.

“Better?” the short haired blond asked as the smaller man shakily stood up.

“Ed grunted, leaning against the light pole again, eyes closed as he tried to calm his racing mind and heart. 

Alfonse eyed Ed warily. He didn’t look well. His friend was white as a sheet and a fine sheen of sweat shone on his brow and neck darkening the roots of all that deliciously golden hair. “Care to explain?” he asked his shaking friend. 

Haunted, pained gold eyes flashed to his for a second and Alfonse flinched, recognizing the look instantly. He’d received several similar looks from the small blond when they’d first met. It gave him a good idea just what this was about.

“I – he,” Ed tried and failed. 

Seeing his usually vocal friend at such a loss for words unnerved him, so he took pity and offered a guess. “That man, the one who the others called over, he’s like me isn’t he?” Alfonse asked. “He looks like someone you knew.”

He was never quite sure what to make of Edward’s stories about alternate worlds and alchemy. To say that he was skeptic was and understatement, but on the other hand Edward was always so upfront and honest concerning everything else, so he couldn’t fathom why the smaller man would lie about his past. What really bothered him, though, wasn’t the possibility that Edward was telling the truth about his past so much as how Ed reacted to these doppelgangers he occasionally ran into. No matter how he dismissed the blond’s claims of other worlds and alchemy he couldn’t dismiss the recognition and pain in Edward’s eyes. And the look in the other man’s eyes tonight was the worst he’d ever seen.

“Yes,” Ed confessed, relieved that the man who looked like his brother understood. 

“I’m guessing he wasn’t your other brother,” the taller blond said, offering Ed his handkerchief. 

Accepting the square piece of cloth, the smaller man nodded. “No, not another brother,” Ed muttered, wiping his face. “Al’s my only brother. No,” he said with a shake of his head, “that was Roy.” 

The way Ed said the man’s name made Alfonse extremely uncomfortable. It was as if the name was sacred. 

Though he had a good idea, Alfonse asked, “And this Roy was…?”

Ed seemed to catch himself then. Straightening up and handing the taller man back his handkerchief, he said guardedly, “My commanding officer. He was – like family to me.”

And Alfonse knew at that moment that if Edward had never come to this world that that Roy would have been family. Roy had been Edward’s lover. Alfonse felt a small twinge of sadness for his friend and more than a little jealously. 

Because Alfonse looked like his brother, Edward had made it explicitly clear that there could never be something between them. But that man at the Madam’s, he could have something with the blond, and the blue-eyed boy resented him for it.

“Will you go back there for that prostitute then?” Alfonse asked, needing to hear the answer but not truly wanting to know.

Edward shook his head vehemently, eyes too bright, and when he spoke this voice was too rough. “No. Never. I – he…he’s Roy but he’s not Roy. I could never.” 

He was surprised by Ed’s response; it wasn’t what he had expected, but he could hear the strain in his friend’s voice and his jealousy gave way to guilt. “I see,” he whispered, resting his hand on the blond’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you home.”


End file.
